Page 52 of Stormbringer (Tracthesian Academy #1)

T hey were halfway through the campus when the last of the clouds cleared, and Wayla fell limp in Irishen’s arms. Wherever her skin was visible it was black and blue, and blood trickled from her nose and mouth.

Marc didn’t know if he was relieved or horrified that she’d stopped jerking and arching in soundless screams of pain.

Irishen steadily poured cold into her, and his touch seemed to be the only thing she tolerated. When Justin or Sinister had reached out, trying to help, she had lashed out. Sinister still cradled his broken arm, and Justin sported a black eye and a limp as they hurried through the yard.

Surprisingly, it had been Irishen and Hellion working together that had kept the spectacle to a minimum. With their history, no one was surprised that they had demolished one hallway.

Marc kept shielding Wayla from sight. He didn’t know what was going on with his ex-fake-girlfriend, but something was, and having the whole campus up in their business was not the way to go.

His shields were straining to keep Wayla contained, even when she was clearly unconscious. Irishen kept whispering to her, but Marc didn’t hear what. His containment bubble let him see in, but sound was kept inside.

He would have to talk with Yash about that. His illusions and area control mixed with his shields yielded some spectacular results, but right now, he very much wanted to know what Irishen was saying.

Another thing he very much wanted to know was why Wayla was tolerating his touch. Did they really have something going on between them? He had pulled away when Marc had suggested that she should kiss him.

He was going to beat Irishen’s ass over that later. If he had just fucking kissed her, none of this would have happened. Kicking Hellion’s ass on the same principle was probably in order too.

Those two could channel immense amounts of power. Marc was good, very good, at what he did, but he wasn’t inheriting the powers of Hell like Hellion. Irishen was not a match to Hellion in that regard, but he was still heir apparent of his clan. If he hadn’t been such an ass…

He glanced sideways at Jarred. “Did we warn the house?”

Jarred’s head snapped up, and he cursed, before digging out his phone. After a quick call, he nodded. “Grant is informing the rest, and Ilijas and Sim are waiting.”

“Good.”

It felt like forever before the house came into view. Sinister couldn’t portal Wayla in the condition she was in, since Marc wouldn’t be able to keep the bubble up through the portal. Every step took forever. The front door flew open, and as soon as they were through it, Marc dropped his shield.

“Morsel, you have to keep breathing.”

He caught the whispered words, and his heart stalled. Ilijas jumped into action.

“What happened? Lay her down here,” he said and pointed at the cleared living room floor.

Irishen carefully laid her down, but didn’t let go as he spoke. “I got a message from Tulias, one of Elena’s minions, about what was going on in the class. I called Justin on the way over.”

“Justin?” Sim asked while he handed Ilijas the things he needed.

“He’s the only number I have,” Irishen snapped, but his eyes didn’t move from Wayla. “Kelsey, the bastard, was battering Wayla with flames. According to Tulias, she just couldn’t catch them.”

“Weird,” Jarred mumbled. “Why didn’t she just catch them or shield externally?” They were all crowding around Wayla, and Ilijas looked like he wanted to tell them to back off. Marc appreciated his restraint to keep his mouth shut, because he wasn’t going anywhere.

“And then?” Sim prodded.

“I got there and froze the room just before Kelsey’s firewall hit her.”

Jarred growled, his jaguar trying to break free. Marc hadn’t ever seen him so on edge. Justin took over the story.

“We arrived on his heels, and Wayla was standing, shaken but looking all right. It was after we got her out of there that she started to…”

“My best guess is leaking power due to pressure,” Hellion murmured.

“How she has enough to leak over is beyond me though. She’s a fucking storm spirit and I haven’t felt the tiniest edge of her aura before.

” Now he sounded angry, but Irishen just closed his eyes and breathed in deep.

When he opened them, he searched out Hellion’s eyes.

“Suppression.” He sounded pained, like he was speaking from experience. Hellion jerked back like Irishen had slapped him.

“Sup—but why would she…”

“Why would she hide power?” Irishen sounded derisive. “Yeah, I wonder why. It’s not like there could be good reasons to do so.”

“You two, don’t start now,” Ilijas cut in, eyes flashing. He focused on Irishen. “What makes you say this is caused by suppression?”

“The way she acted and reacted,” Irishen replied quietly. “Loud noises made her control slip more, strong feelings made her unconsciously flinch.”

“And?” Ilijas kept pressing.

“And the way she held on until she had sucked in the entire fucking storm. You don’t pull in a thunderstorm like that if it’s your first time trying to hold in power.”

“She did what?” Sim broke in. He was usually calm and collected, but now even his eyes were wide. Jarred growled again and started pacing. Marc shared his sentiment, but he was rooted in place. What secrets was she holding?

Hellion nodded slowly and looked sick at the same time. “Suppression of power is like a weight on your chest. The more power you push down, the more the pressure builds, until it starts to leak over. At that point, you either release it, or…”

“Or, say you’re afraid, you suck it in and pray that you are strong enough to come out on the other side,” Irishen finished it for him.

“It’s a torture method,” Hellion murmured darkly. “Contain someone powerful long enough that the pressure builds and then…” he trailed off.

Ilijas muttered something not very nice under his breath and then carefully reached out. As soon as his hand landed on Wayla’s shoulder, the whole house shuddered, and Ilijas flew across the room, like Sinister had.

“Well, that’s not going to work,” Sim deadpanned. Marc almost punched him, but Ilijas got up and shook himself.

“We need to figure out a way to get some of the power siphoned off.”

“She allows only me, Hellion, Jarred, and Irishen to touch her,” Marc muttered, thinking. That got a raised eyebrow from Ilijas. Sinister sat down on the couch and held out his hand.

“Care to fix this since she’s not letting us help?”

“How did that happen?” Ilijas asked.

“Same as you, but I landed wrong,” Sinister groaned. “I bet Marc is planning on throwing me around the ring tomorrow to fix that.”

“Hell Moon is in two days,” Jarred suddenly cut in. “She can’t shield shit and now this. What the fuck are we going to do?”

Irishen’s head snapped up. “What do you mean she can’t shield?”

Marc sighed. “We’ve been trying to train her since the semester started. She’s not getting it.”

Irishen laughed. He actually slumped closer to the floor, cradled Wayla’s hand in his, and laughed hard. “Can’t shield.” He chortled. “Gods, morsel. What secrets are you hiding?” Just as Marc was ready to punch him, he looked up at all of them. “She can shield.”

“What?” Jarred snarled.

Irishen shook his head, no longer laughing. “I can’t believe you missed that, Marc. She’s shielding even now. It’s so ingrained in her that she’s doing it even while unconscious.”

Marc’s mind turned blank. It couldn’t be true, could it?